Fiction 1: On Leaping before looking (The end)
It started with a very business-like text message. One that was sent in expectation of a reply.
It was tart and impersonal. Her brow furrowed. So much that the reply she keyed in was as dripping with confusion as her thoughts.
They were not to meet that day. Not even for drinks. There were a lot of things in his mind and now because of the way he talked and texted..there were a lot in hers. He told her he needed time to himself. And she acquiesced. She had no reason to be consumed by frustration or doubt. No matter how well meaning friends have tried to caution her that he was moving too fast and was forcing her to move in the same pace, she was successful in vanquishing their doubts before they transformed into her own. After all, she was more than happy. She hasn't smiled this much in awhile and she had every reason to believe him when he said he felt the same.
This cocky, arrogant, sexist man has proved to have such a large toffee caramel core.
The one-liners.
The vain pronouncements.
The glares.
The stubble.
They were all just seemed to be a ploy for strangers not to get a glimpse of the sweetness and softness that contrasted completely with his carefully constructed look.
She talked to him. Calmed him down. Told him if she needed him, she was just a phone call away.
She shut off her phone. She rounded the corner back to where her friends were waiting.
She changes her mind gets her cell phone and wonders if she should send a typical girlfriend "I'm worried about you. Please take care.." text. And she does.
The restaurant her friends chose was noisy. A fact that seemed to sit well with her. She grabbed the menu and flipped it over to the drink list. She was much thirstier than she thought. Without even blinking at the prices, she orders her first Vodka Currant then lets herself and her thoughts be swallowed by the din.
Shaking her head, she peers inside the second bottle of vodka to confirm that, yes, there was not a drop left.
Two bottles. She was more bothered than she thought. She glances at her phone and sees that no one has contacted her in the last 2 hours. With a sigh, she accepts she can no longer just sit still.
Thankfully, her friends let her walk around and away. She was walking to no place in particular. Just hitting pavement, willing sobriety to increase as she tried to call him. Her thoughts and fears were ebbing, flowing, mixing, segueing, escalating as he took his sweet time to pick up.
Finally, he does. And he tells her he was on her way to her. Relief didn't come with his statement. Just more apprehension.
They ended up in front of a bank. They sat on its steps feet stretched out. He asks her about her day. And in a moment of total lack of guard she answers with him "It all depends on how you're going to end it for me." And that's when he swallows. She knew she had made him uncomfortable. But she hoped not too much because she needed him to tell her what the fuck was this all about.
"It's not you, it's me."
"It's better off this way."
"If it was meant to be, it will be."
"It's not the right time for us."
"You deserve something more."
"I don't deserve you."
His lines, none of them were original. None of his reasons were new.
As she sat there silent, too stunned to say a word back,
he grabs his phone to check the time.
It was 6am.
"I have to go," he said.
"Don't go", she said meekly.
"I have to."
"Alright then."
And wordlessly, he walked away.
It was tart and impersonal. Her brow furrowed. So much that the reply she keyed in was as dripping with confusion as her thoughts.
They were not to meet that day. Not even for drinks. There were a lot of things in his mind and now because of the way he talked and texted..there were a lot in hers. He told her he needed time to himself. And she acquiesced. She had no reason to be consumed by frustration or doubt. No matter how well meaning friends have tried to caution her that he was moving too fast and was forcing her to move in the same pace, she was successful in vanquishing their doubts before they transformed into her own. After all, she was more than happy. She hasn't smiled this much in awhile and she had every reason to believe him when he said he felt the same.
This cocky, arrogant, sexist man has proved to have such a large toffee caramel core.
The one-liners.
The vain pronouncements.
The glares.
The stubble.
They were all just seemed to be a ploy for strangers not to get a glimpse of the sweetness and softness that contrasted completely with his carefully constructed look.
She talked to him. Calmed him down. Told him if she needed him, she was just a phone call away.
She shut off her phone. She rounded the corner back to where her friends were waiting.
She changes her mind gets her cell phone and wonders if she should send a typical girlfriend "I'm worried about you. Please take care.." text. And she does.
The restaurant her friends chose was noisy. A fact that seemed to sit well with her. She grabbed the menu and flipped it over to the drink list. She was much thirstier than she thought. Without even blinking at the prices, she orders her first Vodka Currant then lets herself and her thoughts be swallowed by the din.
Shaking her head, she peers inside the second bottle of vodka to confirm that, yes, there was not a drop left.
Two bottles. She was more bothered than she thought. She glances at her phone and sees that no one has contacted her in the last 2 hours. With a sigh, she accepts she can no longer just sit still.
Thankfully, her friends let her walk around and away. She was walking to no place in particular. Just hitting pavement, willing sobriety to increase as she tried to call him. Her thoughts and fears were ebbing, flowing, mixing, segueing, escalating as he took his sweet time to pick up.
Finally, he does. And he tells her he was on her way to her. Relief didn't come with his statement. Just more apprehension.
They ended up in front of a bank. They sat on its steps feet stretched out. He asks her about her day. And in a moment of total lack of guard she answers with him "It all depends on how you're going to end it for me." And that's when he swallows. She knew she had made him uncomfortable. But she hoped not too much because she needed him to tell her what the fuck was this all about.
"It's not you, it's me."
"It's better off this way."
"If it was meant to be, it will be."
"It's not the right time for us."
"You deserve something more."
"I don't deserve you."
His lines, none of them were original. None of his reasons were new.
As she sat there silent, too stunned to say a word back,
he grabs his phone to check the time.
It was 6am.
"I have to go," he said.
"Don't go", she said meekly.
"I have to."
"Alright then."
And wordlessly, he walked away.